Zero Gravity
by Hayai Akurei
Summary: AU They always said they'd find each other again.


Zero Gravity

By Hayai Akurei

--((00))-((00))--

Disclaimer: They all belong to Studio Bones. I wouldn't be here if they were mine.

--((00))-((00))--

Blue eyes scanned through the video screens at the crowds of people who were congregating up in the rows of seats. Milling about the orchestra hall, talking busily amongst themselves, they reminded the young man of a flock of birds in an aviary.

'That'd be a hell of a lot of birds,' he thought amusedly to himself. Birds were simple creatures with simple needs, and he liked them.

Except for owls. He hated owls.

He fiddled with the console of the switchboard, making sure that everything worked and was in order. The manager had nagged him endlessly about it, as every performance given under their roof had to be perfect. Especially this one. He was rumored to be a child prodigy and this was his big debut performance.

'Poor kid must be scared stiff.'

Brushing a lock of dusty gray-brown hair from his face, he plopped down in the swivel chair and slid the headphones over his ears with a sigh. Time to get to work.

--((00))-((00))--

The orchestra was already in place, sitting down in all their assigned places. For some reason, he felt a little nervous tonight. Like something big was going to happen.

Must be his nerves. It wasn't like this was something new. But you'd think that by now, he'd be used to it.

He let his golden gaze drift shut as he leaned the weight of the cello against his knee. He felt the familiar pressure of the metal strings of taut wire beneath his callused fingers and the smooth polished wood of the instrument's neck in the curve of his hand. Running the bow across the chords, he allowed the sweet sound to reverberate in his ears, adjusting the knobs until he received the desired notes.

The familiar sound calmed him. It reminded him of one of the old lullabies that his mother used to sing him at night when he was a baby.

All around him, the other orchestra members were tuning their instruments as well. Their gentle humming sent a soft hush over the audience as they took their seats.

Glancing over at his lady love, the harpist, he smiled. Perhaps, if she was willing, they could go out to dinner tonight.

The prospect made him smile.

--((00))-((00))--

He liked reserving boxes in theatres. It made these events so much more bearable. He never liked having to sit among twittering women who tried to sneak photographs during the performance. He never understood why they tried to get away with it. Once he had seen a lady have her camera confiscated during the show and he nearly laughed aloud at the sight. That thing must have been incredibly expensive too.

Vaguely, he wondered what exactly they did with all those confiscated cameras. Their owners certainly didn't get them back. Well, with the film intact at least.

And then there were always little kids asking every few minutes, "What are they doing?" And "I'm bored." "Can we go home yet?"

Ugh. Women and kids. The two main reasons why he was still single.

Yes, boxes were much, _much_ better.

--((00))-((00))--

The audience fell silent as the lights darkened.

Far below them, arranged impeccably on the stage, the orchestra began to play. The harpist started them off, accompanied by her fellow strings.

As they cut off, their lights dimmed slightly and a spotlight opened at the center of the raised circular platform behind them, illuminating a single figure in its warmth.

He was a pretty fellow, so much that he could have passed for a young girl if it hadn't been for his brief biography in the evening program. And more often than not, girls wore dresses rather than simple tuxedos with red ties.

Auburn hair framed his soft features in a soft curl, hiding half his face with an air of mystery. Somewhat short for his young age, he sat like a prince on the polished ebony black stool.

All was silent as he deftly struck the ivory keys with practiced grace and began to sing.

_Been a long road to follow_

_But there and gone tomorrow_

_Without saying goodbye to yesterday_

The air that filled vast opera house swelled with the boy's sweet voice. High above, it echoed gently off the sweeping ceiling, the sound reverberating throughout the auditorium. It was soft, but it easily filled the dark empty space.

_Are the memories I hold still valid?_

_Or have the tears deluded them?_

The violinists swayed gently with their instruments, all of them moving as one. Behind them, the bass player plucked gently at the strings.

_Maybe this time tomorrow_

_The rain will cease to follow_

_And the mist will fade into one more today_

_Something somewhere out there keeps calling_

Slim hands moved in a liquid fashion as the music heightened to a rising crescendo, the orchestra following suit.

_Am I going home?_

_Will I hear someone singing solace to the silent moon?_

Zero gravity what's it like? 

His voice began to still, almost lazily through the drifting melody. And yet, the emotion driven through the lyrics sent a small shiver up several spines.

_Am I alone?_

_Is somebody there beyond these heavy aching feet?_

Still the road keeps on telling me to go on 

The words hung heavy in the air. Despite the light and gentle notes surrounded by the song's uplifting power, they could sense how tired he was. Weary from searching. For what, they didn't know. Turning his face up into the light, he basked in its angelic glow as the highlights of red and gold in his hair shone with fiery brilliance.

Even from such a distance, the audience could sense – if not see – the small, hopeful smile that then donned his face, as the chorus behind him hummed quietly.

_Something is pulling me_

_I feel the gravity of it all_

For a moment, the piano was all they heard, until the pounding notes rose in to swirl in a magical blend with the other instruments. With the chorus' haunting harmony, the music ascended to the peak of the climax, before settling down peacefully. Flutes whistled their last notes as the young pianist concluded the piece, escorted by violins singing in tandem.

The audience erupted with cheers.

--((00))-((00))--

He was crying. Far be it from him if he knew why, but the tears were there. He could still feel the dull ache in his chest, where it had grown steadily throughout the performance.

Slipping his earphones off, he quickly swiped his shirtsleeve across his eyes as he turned the all the stage lights on.

--((00))-((00))--

Wow. Just wow.

The kid was so much better now than he had been in rehearsal. More than once, he had tripped over something on his way to the piano and his voice had broken with the tension. For a while, he had honestly thought the kid was going to be hospitalized due to all the stress. It had taken a box of Chinese take-out to calm the kid's nerves, but he had experienced no such trouble tonight.

Ah, chicken chow mein with a side of soda works wonders. It never fails.

This evening had been magical, to say the least. He had become an entirely different person, sitting at the piano like that.

And having witnessed the kid's potential, he knew that the prodigy composer would have no such trouble in the future.

--((00))-((00))--

Leaning back in his plush velvet seat, he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

He knew that kid from somewhere. He just knew it. He just didn't know _where_. And the more he thought about it, the more the answer eluded him.

It frustrated him when things like that happened. He held the small program in his hands, pouring over the young man's biography, trying to figure out where he had seen him before.

Nothing.

Oh, damn it all.

--((00))-((00))--

The theatre manager beamed as he strode across the stage. Slowly, the young man trotted down the steps to meet him at the front of the stage, the orchestra rising to their feet to clap as well.

They shook hands heartily, and the manager swept his arm out to the crowd, clapping him on the back. Beaming, the young man bowed, happiness clearly written across his handsome features. Then, a young girl of about six years walked out onto the stage and bashfully presented the pianist with a lovely bouquet.

Lilies were out of season this time of year, but these weren't any less lovely. Myriads of delicate white petals curled open in full bloom like a spidery lotus. Their pure brilliance almost gave off a soft glow, so much like their namesake that hung in the cloudless evening sky outside.

The boy smiled as he accepted the flowers, graciously kissing the back of the child's hand and making her blush.

But as the light, flowery scent reached his nose, golden eyes widened. His heart began to flutter in the pit of his stomach, sending tingles to the tips of his fingertips and down his spine as he gazed down at the bouquet in his hands. The roaring applause fell silent in his ears as he looked up.

Everything faded except for the presence of four others. All was silent and the air was perfumed with the scent of flowers. Smiling, he raised a hand and waved, his ivory stone bracelets clinking together, a sound that only they could hear.

Zero gravity, what's it like? 

--((00))-((00))--

Author's Notes: (hearts) I _love_ "Gravity." Yoko Kanno is an absolute _genius_. And I'm sorry for all the POV changes! Flame me if it was too confusing! But note that all flames will be used to help heat my house this winter. But yes, this is cheesy.


End file.
